Cassie's Secret File
by Jess the Minstrel
Summary: An extremely young private-eye detective, ex-FBI agent, sets out against overwhelming odds to literally save the world. Around every bend are more people offering to help her, but who can she really trust?
1. Default Chapter

CASSIE'S SECRET FILE  
  
Cassie leaned back in her chair in front of her computer and gave a frustrated sigh.  
Was this then the end of all her hard work? Almost five months of tapping, hacking, and spying as a new teen agent in the FBI, and her hard- won secret codes for the Kor-Aldan terrorist phone line refused passage. She had been positive that they would work, but...ah! Cassie sat upright again and typed quickly. If the codes didn't work for these networks, then maybe they would enter in with this one, a REALLY secret line that even the FBI didn't know about yet. She pushed in the code.  
  
Access code accepted. Press personal keys to enter.  
  
"Yes!" A cry of exhilaration escaped her. Then she straightened up and frowned at herself. "I mean, good. Now for the personal code." She became the icy, logical detective again. She typed into the computer-  
  
Guerilla Base Pakistan 354896 Unit B  
  
Instantly her computer went black. Then, green words began to appear on the screen. A conversation was going on between a terrorist scientist and one of the leading rebels, a man known as Black Tag! Cassie's eyes widened as she realized what they were talking about.  
  
BT: Did you arrange for the divert squad?  
S. /Lab: Of course. An attack will be made the 21st of June  
on London, England, from the air, land and sea.  
You don't have to worry; I have it all planned carefully.  
BT: If you fail, your position is forfeit.  
S./Lab: I will not fail.  
BT: Then the nuclear explosives are completed?  
S./Lab: Not quite yet, but they will be ready in two months  
or less.  
BT: One month.  
S./Lab: That is not possible, it can only be a month and a  
half at minimum. My men are working as efficiently and secretly as  
possible.  
BT: Hang secrecy! No one knows of our plans.  
S./Lab: But the Americans are on to our case.  
BT: That means nothing. They do not worry me. I want those  
explosives finished soon. In fact, I'd like the entrance code to the  
plans, so I can observe your progress.  
S./Lab: Here it is- A3668934652938476-3459-B9  
BT: Good.  
S./Lab: Hold on.  
BT: What now?  
S./Lab: Are you sure this line is safe?  
BT: Of course I'm sure.  
S./Lab: I think it's being tapped.  
BT: Get rid of the present codes!  
S./Lab: I'm destroying these files right away.  
  
Suddenly, Cassie's screen went blank, and red words flashed  
denial of access.  
"Great." She tried to get back onto the conversation, but to  
no avail.  
"Well, I still have the nuclear plans," she said to herself.  
An hour later, she scanned the calculations. Rows and columns of numbers and symbols rolled down the screen.  
"Darn, these guys know their calculus," she muttered. Suddenly, an equation and diagram caught her eye. She looked more closely.  
"Chemo-nucleic acid, two carbon bolts, a solution of THREE TONS OF REACTIVE R08!!!!!!!!!!!" This was a new chemical, discovered only a few years ago, and found to be highly explosive. A small quantity of this element could blow up something the size of the Empire State building!  
"They must be mad!" She read the diagram again, and again. "They really are serious! They think they can blast something with this? If I'm correct..." she grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. For twenty minutes she did rapid calculations and pored through her old science manual.  
"I know that about two thousand miles into earth is its dense liquid core, made of compressed matter. Science has proven that it can exist in either of two stable states, but given a certain stimulus, it can change in a snap from one state to the other. If the Kor-Aldan drop an explosive this strong, then that will liberate almost as much energy as all the earthquakes since the beginning of the world! This planet would be destroyed! The terrorists may know calculus, but they're assuming too much in their chemistry! I've got to get this on paper and take it to headquarters right away."  
Cassie pushed the 'print' button. Nothing happened.  
"Come on, dumb computer," she groaned, tapping the print key. Suddenly, the terrorist bomb plans disappeared, and in their place were the dreaded words-  
  
Access denied.  
  
"NO, NO, NO!" Cassie banged on her computer. She desperately tried all the codes she knew.  
  
Access denied.  
  
Cassie clenched her fists. "I'll still try to convince the boss of what I've seen, even without hard evidence!" She grabbed the phone.  
Two tension filled hours later she had gained two things:  
The laughter and ridicule of all the main police and detective agencies in the country, and an official termination from the FBI manager.  
  
"Please, you have to believe me, the world is going to come to an end!" she said as calmly and business like as she could to Matt Eisile from the FBI.  
"Sure," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "and tomorrow I'm going to be the king of England!"  
"There won't be a king of England if all this happens," Cassie pleaded with him.  
"Look, kid, I agree that something has to be done about that terrorist threat on London. We've known about that for some time, and America is sending extra troops to support Britain. But, a nuclear attack to destroy the world? That's a bit too far-fetched. I think the strain of being an agent is taking its toll on you. Why don't you get a nice, peaceful job working as a college professor? Yeah, that would be a good idea. Give your mind a rest from terrorists and detective stuff. You're only eighteen, go get a real life."  
Cassie's voice shook with anger. "You mean, you're firing me?"  
"Well, if you want to put it that way...yeah. All I'm trying to do is give you a break, kid. Don't take it personally."  
"I'm not a kid. And I AM taking it personally. You've wanted me out of the FBI ever since I solved the Venstrata Case that YOU couldn't figure out."  
"Hey, that's going a bit too far, kid. You leave quietly, and I'll make sure word of your...insanity doesn't spread. Got it?"  
Cassie hung up the phone and stared at it stonily.  
"Look what you've done to yourself, Cassie. You try to save the world, and you end up losing the job that took five years to get and becoming the laughing stock of the police force. If you're not careful, they'll set you up in an insane asylum for the rest of your life! So, now what are you going to do?"  
Cassie laid her head on the desk atop stacks of papers and files. It was rare that she ever admitted defeat, but this time it looked pretty serious. Then, one of her favorite sayings came into her head.  
"Never give up, never say die, never stop trying, and never cry!"  
She jumped to her feet and gritted her teeth. "Since when have I given up? If the FBI, police, army, navy, air force, and marines won't help me, then I'll just do it myself! Black Tag, watch out, here comes Cassie!"  
  
Three days later, Cassie was on a plane headed for Pakistan.  
Unfortunately, it was a cargo plane carrying bananas. And Cassie had to sit hunched over in the dark, dank, banana-smelling hold for almost eight hours, clutching her backpack and two suitcases.  
Finally, the pilot landed the plane and opened the doors, letting Cassie out onto the field.  
"Muchos gracias, senor," was all the exhausted young detective could say. She paid the Spanish man and dragged her bags off. After hailing a taxi, signing in at a rickety motel, arguing in broken Persian with the manager over food prices, and securely locking the doors and windows of her room, she collapsed on the bed.  
Briiiiinggg.  
"Darn, just when I wanted to rest!" Cassie grabbed her cell phone. "Cassie speaking."  
"Listen to me."  
Cassie inwardly groaned. Great, another anonymous caller tipping off a murderer who was seeking to blast some Secret Agent's brains out. She got them all the time.  
"Hey, buddy, listen to ME. I don't work for the FBI anymore. So, thanks for your help, but you're talking to the wrong person."  
"No. You are the right person."  
"Back off, buster." Cassie pushed the end call button. It clicked satisfactorily. She was in no mood to talk to anybody right now.  
The cell phone rang again.  
"Hello, Cassie speaking." Her voice was terse. She wanted a nap. Now.  
"Listen to me."  
"Did you just call me a minute ago?"  
"Yes."  
"Blast!" Cassie shrieked. "Fine, if you have something to say, then hurry up and say it!" Her temper was at its frazzled end.  
"Simply this: if you want to help this universe survive for more than forty-five more days, then I suggest you go to London's Big Ben in four days."  
"What?" Cassie rolled over on her bed. "You must be kiddi..."  
"Go up to the clock tower and I will be there. If you want my assistance, then you would be wise to do this."  
"And why would I want your assistance?" Icily, in a dry tone.  
"Because if you do not, then your world will end."  
"Hey, who is this?" Cassie demanded angrily. Then she had an idea. She reached into one of her open suitcases and untangled a small black machine, hooking it up to the telephone. On the machine's screen, data began to pop up. She tried to keep whomever it was talking.  
"So, you believe that the world's gonna end, do you? Funny, besides the Kor-Aldan and me, no one else knows that."  
"I am not one of the Kor-Aldan."  
"Well then. Who in the world are you?" Her eyes were fixed on the numbers that slowly began to emerge on the small machine's screen. She hastily scribbled them down on a piece of paper.  
"I am not of this world."  
"Ha ha. Then you must be a little green man from outer space. Nanoo- nanoo."  
"No. That is not what I am."  
"And I should trust you because...?"  
"Because there is nothing else for you to do. Striving against the Kor-Aldan alone is futile. You need help."  
"I think you need help, buster," Cassie said sarcastically, and hung up, because she had all the information she needed.  
What the little black machine she had plugged into her phone was designed to do was track the exact global position of the caller and write it down as a series of numbers. She began to calculate.  
Five minutes later...  
"I must need a nap. This doesn't make sense."  
Ten minutes after that...  
"This is insane! Arg..."  
And fifteen minutes later, after she had equated the numbers every logically conceivable mathematically correct way, they still evaded reason. The GPS location was inexorably pointing to a space out in the area about five hundred twenty three miles away from the earth. It was a stationary location, which was puzzling. Anything at that distance ought to be orbiting the earth, not staying in one place...  
"What am I thinking!" Cassie shrieked aloud at herself, waving the paper and her phone wildly. "I am going berserk! I am going off my rocker! I'm losing all my marbles! My bats are leaving the belfry! This is insanely crazy!" Several hours later, after a nap and eight cups of tea, Cassie was on the phone with a travel agent, purchasing a ticket for the next plane to London. 


	2. Chapter II

Big Ben was a colossal sight. Even though she'd already been in London numerous times (eight, to be exact), Cassie had never been privileged with an up-close glimpse of the immense clock tower. The three security guards at the entrance informed her that no one was allowed to go to the top floor of the tower. The closest she could get without a government license was in a small, lobby sort of area slightly like a museum, on the second floor. Cassie casually flashed her now- defunct FBI badge at them, and they hastily assured her that she could go up to the clock if she pleased, ma'am. Silently thanking Matt Eisile for being so lackadaisical in deleting old agents from the federal files, Cassie climbed what seemed like a million stairs up to the clock. She watched, fascinated, as the huge cogs and wheels spun slowly around. It was quiet. "Thank you for responding to my call." Cassie was suddenly struck by the huge desire to whirl around in surprise at the sound of the voice right behind her, but detective training told her the proper response was to nonchalantly reply, then turn to face the person talking, no matter how surprised she was to find someone there where there hadn't been anyone before. She did so. "You may be wondering," said the voice, as Cassie nonchalantly turned from the view of Big Ben's clockwork towards the person, "why I would be able to help you."  
"And also," it went on before she could answer, "you are probably berating yourself for being such an idiot for traveling here to see this."  
Cassie was mildly curious as to how the person knew this. He was correct, though. The man behind her was little more than four and a half feet tall. He wore decidedly expensive clothes that looked as if they were made for someone else, and his black hair was neatly combed. On the whole, she quickly appraised, he looks like an affluent Wall Street businessman, out for a day in the stock market. It was rather a disappointment.  
"You were expecting a miracle, maybe?" the man raised his eyebrows.  
"Not a miracle. Something more..."  
"Large?" the man laughed softly. "You will find that size and age are relative terms, my dear young lady. Age is time, and time is only a mode of thought, you know. Size is matter in space, and facility of thought often precedes corporeal weight in value."  
"Not meaning to be rude, sir, but I came for help to stop terrorists from destroying the world, and I don't have time for a philosopher trying to preach the validity of the unseen. So, if you'll please excuse me, I have a planet to save." Cassie tried to politely brush the little man aside so she could descend the stairwell.  
"I did not come to preach to you," the man said, standing solidly in her way. "I came with an offer that I think you will not likely desire to pass up." His keen face watched her as she looked her disbelief.  
"I can give you a team of the most intelligent human beings in the universe." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can provide you with more technology then your wildest imagination can think possible. I can show you more amazing sights than you ever dreamed existed. Why am I offering this to you? I will not lie and say that you are the smartest, brightest, most gifted person I know of. No, compared to the standard of brilliant people nowadays, you are at the bottom of the list. But you are at least still on the list," he said, as she frowned darkly. "I believe that you have the right ideas about what needs to happen on this earth," he told her. "You are also the only one besides me and the Kor-Aldan who know of the impending bomb. I knew about their plans before you did, and now it is not you seeking my help, it is I asking for yours'. You have the choice: join with me in saving the world, or struggle to do it on your own, in vain. The decision is yours'."  
Cassie stood in shocked thought. This man wasn't as useless as he looked. Unless, however, he was bluffing, in which case she would have to fight the Kor-Aldan on her own. But that's what she would be doing anyways, she realized. This way, even if the guy was false, there was still a chance of him telling the truth. Either way, she'd be trying to save the world.  
She stuck out her hand.  
The tense look on the little man's face relaxed into a cheerful grin. He chuckled and shook her hand. "You don't know how much this means to me," he said.  
"I warn you though, if you try anything funny..."  
"Yes, yes, I know, you'll blow my brains out. I've had my share of young, jumpy FBI and CIA agents. Now, I have some business to attend to. If you'd be so kind as to meet me here again tomorrow in the lobby downstairs, we can get straight to work. Oh, and I forgot one thing. My name is Marco. Marco Andretti."  
"I'm Cassie..." she began, but he stopped her.  
"Oh yes, I know who you are, I've been watching you for five months now. Well, I must be going. Tootles!" He walked down the staircase, whistling "O Solo Mio" in a high key.  
Cassie stood a little while at the edge of the tower, staring down at smoggy London. She was rather astounded at the rapidity of events. She felt somehow that she ought to be more wary of strange men who offered their services and begged for her help, but at the same time she had a deep sense that what she was doing was right. She also felt guilty that she felt good about doing what she only felt, not knew, was right. And she felt confused that she felt guilty because she felt good about doing what she only felt was right...  
"Boy, Cassie, this sure could screw up your life," she said out loud to herself. "What are you thinking, girl?" She couldn't answer that, so she asked herself another question. "What are you going to do if you get killed?"  
"Nothing," she logically said.  
"It would sure be nice to be able to talk about this to someone," she said a minute later. But no one she could think of would be interesting in listening to her, so she cancelled the idea with another one.  
"The first person I meet that I know, I'll talk to them," she told herself, and left the clock tower. Chances were, she wouldn't meet a person she knew for a good long time, considering she knew nobody in London, and she was on a top-secret mission. Good. That would give her more time to think.  
Walking into a teashop, she ran into Matt Eisile.  
  
"So, do you always carry your secret handgun when you come on a 'little vacation' to London?"  
Matt sat across from Cassie at a table in the teashop. He stirred sugar into his drink and thoughtfully munched on a biscuit. His blue eyes gazed at her intently.  
"Of course," Cassie said icily, "just like you always twitch your ears when you get excited about a difficult case."  
Matt frowned slightly and rubbed his ears. "Look, kid, leave me out of it. I'm asking the questions."  
"Well, I don't choose to answer them," Cassie growled. "And stop calling me kid. I'm only five years younger than you."  
"There's no need to be so uncivil," Matt said with infuriating calmness. "I just want to know what you're up to."  
"Up to what? I'm not up to anything! I thought that a little relaxation would be nice. London is very diverting."  
Matt eyed her. "You know that I'm not going to believe you."  
Cassie shrugged. "Believe whatever you want, then."  
"Hey kid, you've got to listen to me. I'm not out to get you."  
"Then why did you fire me?"  
Matt sighed. He sipped his tea. "I can't tell you that right now. You wouldn't understand. But I can say that I sincerely don't dislike you. And when you show up in London, I get a bit curious."  
"Why are you in London?" Cassie smirked.  
"Because I, in fact, AM on vacation. I took a break from paperwork and decided on a nice, quiet excursion in what was originally Cheapside. However, if you're doing anything interesting, I'd be more than happy to come along."  
Cassie stared at him, taken aback. "Hey, I thought you hated me!"  
"Nah, that was just, you know, friendly competitiveness. I really admire your talents and abilities."  
The girl thought for a moment. "Nope. You can't come."  
"Why not?" Matt pleaded earnestly. "I'd love to help!"  
"Help what? Ruin my life? Go away." Cassie drank a huge gulp of scalding tea and promptly choked on the burning liquid. Matt handed her a napkin and patted her on the back reassuringly.  
"Kid, I'm on your side. Really, I am. You've just gotta trust me for it."  
Cassie recovered her breath. "That's great. Just great. Thanks for being on my side. A week ago you fired me from the only job I ever wanted." She stood and picked up her briefcase.  
Matt slowly got to his feet. "Have it your way then. But Cassie..." he gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "If you ever run into any difficulties, I'm here."  
Cassie rolled her eyes. "Thanks."  
Matt watched her form melding into the colorful crowd on the English street. He clenched his fists.  
  
Cassie checked her watch. She'd been waiting in the Big Ben lobby since sunrise for Marco Andretti. The berry croissants she'd eaten for breakfast settled themselves comfortably in her stomach, growling comfortably.  
"Ah, thank you for waiting, my dear girl."  
Marco appeared behind her in that swift, confusing way he had. "Today you will meet the other members of my team." He rubbed his hands together excitedly, beckoned her to follow him, and began to walk towards a taxi he hailed. Cassie picked up all her luggage and followed him.  
"This will be a most thrilling time," Marco said exuberantly. He continued to chatter during their long ride. Sometimes Cassie struggled to understand him, only to realize that he had switched from rapid English to jabber in Italian.  
"Ah, here we are!"  
They had stopped at a house in a small, rustic neighborhood on the outskirts of London. Marco cheerfully dragged Cassie's suitcases into the abode. It had a thatched roof, a red wooden door, and the entrance hallway was the type you find a coat rack in with many bright colored, woolen scarves hanging on it. Talking her around the house, Marco deposited her things in a cozy bedroom overlooking a side yard hung with ivy and rosebushes. The place was a typical English country residence. A housekeeper beamed at Cassie as they rushed through the kitchen. Cassie had a quick glimpse of oatmeal cookies steaming on the stove.  
"Now, since you're familiar with our home, I'll assemble the team in the parlor. Just wait here for one minute."  
Cassie sat breathlessly down on the sofa. It was trimmed with pea- green ruffles, and matched the worn armchair and loveseat. Suddenly, she felt very alone. Ever since her parents had passed away, she'd been on her own, but never had many friends. If she disappeared off the face of this earth, the only person to know about would probably be the FBI. And what would they care?  
Marco came back into the room with a line of people behind him. They all promptly sat down.  
"This is Tacy," he said buoyantly. "She's our accountant. Keeps charge of all the expenses and budget. Makes sure we all have enough money." Tacy nodded at her. She was a blonde lady with an alert, quick look about her that showed proficiency in every move.  
"This is Breydin," Marco indicated a young man sprawled in the armchair. His eyes, whose color could only be described as dark purple, starkly contrasted his flaming orange hair. Cassie stared in fascination.  
"We only keep him because he's one of most ingenious inventors and mechanics of this decade," Marco grinned, "or he'd be back on the streets with his skateboarding friends, eating fast food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." Breydin scowled, and the other members of the team chuckled. Obviously, Cassie noticed, it was a well-known fact that Breydin wasn't the most mature or sensible of the group.  
"Here is Clay, our pilot. He can fly, drive, or maneuver any type of vehicle, ship, aircraft, you name it." Clay was a tall, stern man with graying hair. He bowed from his chair.  
"This is Clair, our doctor and diplomat." Clair beamed at Cassie, who recognized her as the lady she'd thought was the housekeeper, baking cookies in the kitchen. Marco smiled. "She's also our cook."  
"Do you have any questions?" Marco concluded.  
Cassie felt jumbled. "Er...how old is everyone?" she asked lamely.  
"I'm twenty-eight," Tacy said crisply.  
"I'm old enough to be your grandmother," Clair said, her eyes twinkling. Cassie's heart hurt a little bit. She'd never known what it was like to have a grandmother.  
"Forty-two," Clay said in his deep voice.  
Breydin grinned impudently. "Twenty."  
The other members of the team glared at him. He quailed slightly,  
and coughed. "Um, I mean, nineteen."  
They glared.  
The boy shrunk down in his chair. "Eighteen?"  
Marco tapped his foot.  
"Seventeen?" Breydin offered in a small voice. Clay tapped his fingers warningly. Breydin gulped, eyeing the man's muscular arms with trepidation.  
"Sixteen," he whispered. Marco's face relaxed. "There's a good lad. We don't keep any secrets from each other here. Remember what I always tell you, age is time, and time..." "...Is only a mode of thought. Yeah, yeah. I got it all memorized," Breydin chuckled under his breath. He looked at Cassie out of the corner of his purple eyes. "Well now, since you've all met each other, we can all go have dinner." "But, Marco, what...what am I supposed to do? What's the reason you want me here? How am I going to help?" Cassie found her voice. She found her hands were shaking, and sternly told them to stop. "You're here to help us with the hacking," Breydin said, snickering. "To help us with the computer work, he means," Marco smoothed over Breydin's comment. "Now, let's all go have some food." Dinner was a relatively silent meal. Clay and Tacy murmured to each other quietly. Clair made sure everyone's plate was full. Breydin kept glancing at Cassie. Marco cheerfully ate four helpings of everything. Cassie picked at her meat pie. Everything was happening too quickly. Suddenly, her cell-phone rang. Everyone jumped. Cassie took a peek at the caller ID and jumped up from the table. "Sorry, guys. Phone call." Outside in the ivy side-yard, she answered it. "Cassie speaking." "Hey, kid. You okay?" "Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?" "You seemed...disturbed when you left in such a flippant manner yesterday. I thought you might not be very happy." "Matt, I told you I was FINE." "Since when have I ever believed you?" Cassie considered this. "True. Okay, so maybe things are a bit hectic, and unexpected events are happening with astonishing rapidity. But other than that, I'm coping." "Why do I feel like you're hiding something?" "Listen, just leave me alone," Cassie said tiredly. "I'm perfectly decent. If I need any assistance, I'll call you." "Do that." Matt hesitated a moment. "Kid, there are a lot of bad things that could happen to a girl out in this world. Be careful, will ya?" "Yeah. Thanks. Bye." Cassie hung up and pondered. "Cassie, are you as knowledgeable as you think you are? Or just extremely gullible and stupid?" "Both," she decided. She went back inside. The others were finishing up dessert. Marco pushed his chair back and patted his rotund front. "Ahhh, what a marvelous feast. Thank you, my dear," addressing Clair, "and now I'll be showing Cassie out to our shed." "Why?" Cassie said, instantly suspicious. "Don't worry," Marco said reassuringly, "You'll be fine." The garage was an extremely large building. It looked like it had once been another house, perhaps the guest quarters, but all the windows were blocked with boards. Cassie instantly noticed two huge sliding doors in the roof. She refrained any comment. They walked into the dark entranceway. Marco flipped on a light. "Our...mode of travel is in that main area," Marco said, indicating a locked door. "We will enter in a moment. But first, let me show you our computer room." Cassie gasped. Her eye was met with more than a dozen computer systems lining the walls. Switchboards, screens, and buttons covering the desk made it look like a scene out of Star Trek. Her fingers itched to test out the functions. "What do you use all these for?" she asked. "Many purposes," Marco explained vaguely, "that you will learn about in time. I'm sure you know how to operate them." "Now," he said, as they stood outside the locked door, "I want you to keep an open mind. What you are about to see is something that not many people might be able to handle. Just stay calm." He opened the door wide and ushered Cassie in. She saw a huge machine that looked like a mix between a spaceship, a stealth fighter, and a helicopter. It was huge and black and solid and...dirty. Cassie stepped forwards and looked closer. The entire outside hull was covered in a thin layer of reddish dust. She felt it. It was chalky, but at the same time spongy. Her hand tinged orange. "Where did this come from," she asked in a low voice. "There's no such kind of soil around here." "Of course there isn't. That kind of dirt isn't found anywhere in the world. We found it on Tamir XV" He smiled. Cassie's heart went cold. "Where's that?" "It's the third planet of the star Betelgeuse, of the constellation Orion." Cassie's world spun. 


End file.
